Pythagoras the Mathemagician Read online

  * * *

  The Sun appeared on a new day from behind the mountains of Eastern Loubnan. Sunrays stretched over the land as the birds launched their musical rhapsody. The fauna awoke to another day of survival in the nearby forest and the surrounding fields. A brisk aroma drifted from the cypress and olive trees as the morning dew covered the land. The populace breathed, with satisfaction, the refreshing morning air before they moved on to their daily routine, as Parthenis did.

  Yet she had awakened earlier than that to bake some bread and cakes for her husband. He had joined her later on and waited now, for her, in the garden. She stepped up with the baked meal and glanced at him while setting the breakfast table. Gazing pensively at the Murex Hill in the distance, he took a deep breath as if wanting to take in all the glorious aromas of the early day. He turned to her a childish smile, and sighed with satisfaction. Their eyes met for a tender moment. This was their favorite time, when they both would sit in their garden for their first meal. At her gracious gesture of invitation, he joined her at the table.

  On the narrow path alongside their garden, Saydonians sauntered towards the hill with baskets of murex shell on their arms. Some hummed a merry tune, while others chatted cheerily. In a friendly manner known to the inhabitants, they all waved in turn to the couple and their smiles broadened as Mnesarchus and Parthenis returned the greetings with the same enthusiasm.

  As if suddenly remembering something, Mnesarchus leaped to his feet, surprising her, and rushed to the joyful procession. Amused, she watched him choosing with eagerness some of the precious purple linen. He then instructed them to prepare for him two sumptuous robes of the Royal Purple.

  ‘A month, no later!’

  She heard him and recalled him informing her, the eve before, that some wealthy Greek traders had shown high interest in that rare ethnic product. She did not need much to guess that he planned to sell these precious robes to them on his next trip to Greece. She tilted her head sideways with a grin of understanding as he joined her back.

  “Yes dear, soon we will sail to Greece,” he affirmed, smiling back at her.

  “In a month?” she exclaimed.

  “Of course, my love! I can assure you that we will enjoy it a great deal. I will introduce you to many of my friends. You will like them, you’ll see!

  “I guess I will, Mnesarchus. Who are they?”

  “Some famous painters and poets,” he said excitedly. “Others are successful merchants and there are even some prominent politicians!”

  She chuckled at his unconcealed enthusiasm. “I’m really looking forward to visiting Greece and meeting all of your friends, dear, but…” she hesitated pensively then decided to state her mind. “About the priestess you mentioned… Well, I’m not sure…”

  “Not sure of what, dear?” he seized her hand over the table and probed her eyes for her hidden concern.

  “It’s hard for me to believe her!”

  “My love, I’m not trying to persuade you of her legitimacy. Just grant her the benefit of the doubt until you meet with her. Sounds fair?” His eyes were intent on hers.

  She knew her opinion mattered to him, the way she cared a lot about him. This matter was important to him, so she would concede for his sake. She sighed.

  “Fine, dear, since you insist. But I still prefer to consult our priests in Gebel. We both know for certain that the power of AL, our God the Most High, is with them.”

  “I don’t mind at all, dear,” he rushed to agree, apparently relieved. His hand started caressing hers warmly, his eyes tenderly in hers. “We shall definitely pay them a visit soon, and that’s a promise!” He asserted all too happily.

  Parthenis sipped at her milk with great relief. When, the day before, her husband had talked about Delphi with so much faith, she thought or rather believed that he had had a change of heart and fine-tuned his mind to the gods of Greece. She knew for sure now that her doubts were not founded. She looked at him.

  His eyes were elsewhere…

  * * *

  The procession of the Murex Experts arrived at the hill that had built up by the accumulation of waste from the purple dye factories behind it. Their silhouettes faded away in that direction. It was by strategic choice that the Saydounians had opted for this particular location to the East of their town. As the wind would blow downward, so would the intense smell wave away from their city.

  There inside, in total secrecy, the Experts cracked down the small shells of Murex[2] to extract the mollusks and then place them in large tanks over a low fire. Carefully and attentively, they conducted their undisclosed process of producing the purple dye. Later on, exposed to the Mediterranean sun, the mollusks would decompose and take on a yellowish pigment.

  The Phoenician artisans would gently heat up the newly obtained liquid for almost two weeks. They would then add some unknown chemical formulas of their creation – probably made from Lemon extract. The skillful manipulation of the process would generate a selection of unique shades of colors that varied from soft pink to deep violet, also known as Royal Purple. These magnificent permanent colors would also be used to dye the finest textiles of linen and flax, imported from Egypt on a regular basis. The outcome introduced to people the pleasure of fashion at all times.

  Undoubtedly, clothes made from Royal Purple stood out in beauty. They had gained favor with Phoenicians of wealth and high social standards. In fact, that unusual textile of rare quality had earned its royal surname because kings and rich elite of foreign nations sought it, regardless of its high price in gold that only their wealth could afford!

  The Saydounians, like the Surians, both famous in the production of purple dye, had made it a point to conceal their artistic formula at all costs. As a matter of fact, workers of these factories had related how each one of them would be inspected scrupulously at the end of the working day, and that, to ensure that the secret recipe would not be stolen. This meticulous, strict control had allowed the Phoenicians to implement a worldwide monopoly over that amazingly beautiful craft of their own invention.

  * * *

  The Sun rose above the peak of the Eastern Mountains. From behind the Murex hill, appeared two women in traditional clothes. They walked down the path to Mnesarchus’ house, in their hands: two boxes and a papyrus. They opened the iron gate of the garden and halted at the reigning silence. They looked at each other for a moment then, without a word, they closed the distance to the backyard door. They knocked softly and waited. Getting no response, they placed the package and the papyrus on the doorsteps with great care, and, without looking back, made their way out.

  Parthenis woke up, relaxed and refreshed from her good night’s sleep. She drew the curtains to the sides, opened the window, and took a deep breath with a sense of contentment. Something under her window, right there at her doorstep drew her attention. She urged her steps to the backyard door, and opened it with caution. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise at the brown packages left at her doorstep. She glanced in wonder, left and right, and far beyond where her eyes could reach. No one could be seen. With a deep frown, she gazed down at the package: two wooden boxes and a roll of Papyrus. A breeze wafted softly and a strong smell of Cedar reached her senses. It was then while bending down slowly, that she distinguished the Phoenician characters on each of the boxes. Royal Purple - 1 Piece. On the other side, the words read Made in Saydoun, Phoenicia.

  She smiled, then giggled. Those would be the outfits her husband had ordered a few weeks ago. She carried the package inside the house and restrained from opening it, or reading the papyrus. Mnesarchus would do it later, she thought to herself.

  As she turned to go back to her room, she recalled that the trip to Greece had been confirmed, and the fate of her future child would soon be revealed by the oracle of Delphi! Although she greatly doubted the revelation of the priestess, trepidation overwhelmed her. When she stepped back into her bedroom, she smiled at her husband waking up.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him cheer
fully and went to lay a soft kiss on his forehead.

  He returned the greeting as he tried to grab her back to him, but she eluded his hands gracefully.

  “Time for breakfast, husband!”

  He groaned in disagreement. Giggling, she turned to the window and gazed for a while at the colorful little bird, sprinting from one branch to another on the olive tree. Strange, she thought to herself, it resembled the legendary Phoenix!

  * * *

  It was a lovely morning in which the crowd at the busy Saydounian pier seemed driven by an energetic will; the will of life. Consorting under the Mediterranean Sun, traders, merchants, artists, and scholars intermingled in social conversation. They appeared longing for an adventure, an adventure filled with the spirit of belonging to the courageous, loving, and caring family of mankind.

  Elegant in a blue-flax tunic, her head veiled with a white scarf, Parthenis, aided by her husband, made her way towards the “Astarte”. Behind them, two young porters carried their luggage with a grin of expectation. The couple slowed down here and there on their way to the “Astarte” as friends and acquaintances would greet them. Parthenis stretched her neck above the crowd to gaze at their ship. The Lady of the Sea, with the huge eyes lost in an eternal gaze, its posture in advance, appeared eager to initiate another trip through the infinite world of the ocean.

  She felt her heart beating faster as Mnesarchus helped her climb the thick wooden steps tied together with strong ropes that brought them on board. Truth be said, she had rarely traveled overseas. For her, this date would stick in her memories forever as a brave new day. From on board, she gazed at the town she had dreaded to leave, even if for a short period of time. She loved her house and her chores as housewife. She liked her neighbors and the friendly people of her hometown. She sighed deeply, inhaling courage and determination for what awaited her. Their destination should be reached and their goal accomplished. There was no going back now!

  “This way, dear,” Mnesarchus invited her to follow him, and she did, with a dynamic return of grins.

  Her steps, firm yet graceful, her head straight, she walked, unconcerned, past the men jamming the boat. Mnesarchus came to a halt at the entrance of the pilot’s compartment. She stepped closer to him as the noise impeded them to communicate. He kindly gestured her to precede him a step down then to the left. She did and then halted, taking in the quietness of the confined interior and the strong smell of the narrow aisle. She frowned as her mind tried to assess what her senses detected. There was more to the smell than humidity. The cedar wood all around her spoke of long voyages on the seas through the powerful aroma it emanated.

  “Parthenis?”

  She glimpsed at Mnesarchus above her shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile before moving on. Identical doors of natural wood lined up on both sides of the passageway. She did not need to turn around to check for their porters. She knew for a fact that they would not miss this opportunity for a tip from her husband, known for his generosity.

  “Our cabin is number five, just ahead, dear…, the next one to the right,” Mnesarchus guided her from behind her back.

  She stopped in front of the door marked number 5, in Phoenician form, on a bronze plate and glanced back at her husband for confirmation. At his nod, she opened it and stepped in.

  “So, dear, this is your personal lodge,” Parthenis exclaimed cheerfully, her eyes browsing the modest surroundings in which her husband always traveled.

  “So it is, my love!” he replied with the same enthusiasm and turned to signal to the porters to leave the luggage at the side of the only bed in the room. He then dropped a few coins in the extended hands of the porters whose eyes brightened at once. Parthenis refrained from laughing at seeing the boys bowing in gratitude several quick times before they dashed out, one after the other. Her heart went to her husband for his kindness to others.

  Her attention reverted to the room they were to inhabit for the duration of their trip. Small, yet comfortable, the place appealed to her. The purple bed linen looked remarkably clean as did the two weaved, colorful carpets thrown on the wooden floor. In a corner, a terracotta jar of water stood by an iron strut carrying a large wash basin of flowery ceramic. The opposite corner presented some hooks on the wall for their clothes. Brand new candles and a small bouquet of white roses graced the small wooden table near the window.

  “Oh dear, how thoughtful of you!” Parthenis exclaimed and rushed to smell the bouquet of her favorite flowers. She then looked curiously from the small window at the activity unfurling on the long pier outside. She laughed at the vibrant scene. At once, the strong arms of her husband wrapped around her waist. She rested back on his warm chest and closed her eyes with contentment.

  “Departure in ten minutes!”

  She snapped her eyes open at the call that reverberated to her from the outside.

  “It’s the Captain,” her husband explained.

  “Everybody on board!” the call reiterated with more authority this time.

  She veered to face her husband. Her heart pounded fast. Her hands sweated on his chest. His eyes sparkled in hers, perceptive of her excitement.

  The adventure was about to begin!

  * * *

  Parthenis and her husband hastened out to join the travelers who submitted to the routine checkup of the traveling documents. The couple did not need to undertake this routine since Mnesarchus owned the ship. However, she had insisted not to miss the gathering and meet their journey’s companions. At detecting that she was not the only woman undertaking this voyage, she felt relieved, even if the male gender surpassed by far the female voyagers.

  Mnesarchus led her by the waist to the banisters, away from the crowd and to a spot where she could watch leisurely without being pushed or harassed. Soon, the “Astarte” moved slowly away from the pier. Parthenis focused her attention on the manpower at work. On one side of the ship, forty muscular men occupied two ranks, one above the other. They rowed with all their power in a harmony that seemed to follow the rhythm played by a young flutist.

  Mnesarchus explained to her the rowing technique invented by the Phoenician sailors through their expertise in the art of navigation. They, as such, far bypassed the Egyptians who still used large canoes that required hard, thus less efficient, paddling.

  Attentive, she watched how the captain and the pilot, along with the flutist, commanded the rowing. It amazed her that the flutist coordinated the exact tempo of the rowers. Like a Maestro who would direct a musical symphony, he brought the whole team, including the pilot and the captain, into perfect harmony. This unity favored the speedy maneuvering of their navigation in gaining considerable time. The captain, from his side, kept a watchful alert while guiding their vessel out of the harbor with an admirable precision.

  When they made their way farther into the sea, they increased the speed. The statue of Astarte, steady in its position, appeared to part the waters, directing the ship into the very heart of the Mediterranean Sea. Three boats of smaller size, with wooden heads of horses at their front, escorted the “Astarte”. The captain shouted his orders, and a sailor ran to the five-meter high mast in the center of the deck. In a matter of seconds, he untied the bulky knot and pulled down the thick ropes. A huge cylindrical canvas unfurled at once to catch the wind. The “Astarte” propelled forward, slicing the surface of the sea in a white foamy crease.

  Thirty-two meters long and six meters wide, their vessel comprised plenty of space for people and merchandise. For the moment, most of the local merchants rested on the other side of the deck facing the rowers, whereas their trading goods were set neatly in the center.

  By mid-day, they encountered several other boats, somewhat similar to each other. The “Astarte” made its way through, proudly different in beauty and shape. Trepidation faded gradually as most of the voyagers sought rest in their rooms.

  “Our lunch will be served any time now, dear,” Mnesarchus informed her, “Aren’t you hungry?”

&nb
sp; “Already?” She lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “I mean, is it lunch time?”

  He laughed out loudly. “I’m glad you are enjoying the trip from the very start,” he teased her.

  She chuckled then, and, seized his hand to have him lead the way to their lodge.

  The moment they regained the privacy of their room, she untied her veil and graciously shook her head to release her long mane.

  “Mmm, it does smell delicious,” she exclaimed with a look at their meal ready on their table.

  Mnesarchus laughed, “So, you are hungry!”

  “Of course! With all this excitement…!”

  “Adding the fresh air of the sea that stimulates the appetite…,” he insinuated jokingly.

  “Oh dear, I am so happy I came along!” She threw herself in his arms in a spontaneous expression of gratitude and joy.

  “Same here, beloved,” his voice sounded hoarse with emotion. He cleared his throat and added, “Let’s eat.”

  She complied and settled on the wooden chair weaved with thick rope. He joined her at the table facing her. He divided the warm bread and shared it with her while she served him some stew.

  “I am really thrilled, Mnesarchus! I am, very much, looking forward to seeing Greece. When do you think we’ll be there?”